47. Inevitabilities
Inevitabilities
I allowed myself one night to wallow. One night to lie curled beneath my blankets, replaying every humiliating moment of the trial, every shameful confession the phantom Xül had drawn from me. One night to feel the burn of mortification as I remembered Voldaris watching me.
But when dawn broke, I forced myself out of bed.
I took extra care with my appearance that morning, crafting an image of perfect indifference. My hands barely trembled as I combed my long black waves, practicing the mask I would wear—slightly bored, mildly amused, utterly unconcerned with whatever anyone might have heard.
I stared at my reflection, forcing my jaw to unclench. "Just get through today," I whispered to myself.
What did it matter if everyone had heard my pathetic desires? What did it matter if Xül knew I wanted him? I was here to kill Olinthar. Everything else was secondary.
By the time I'd finished preparing, I had my emotions firmly under control.
But instead of heading to the dining hall as I normally would, I found myself drawn to the eastern exit of the Bone Spire.
I needed air. Space. And perhaps most of all, I needed someone who wouldn't look at me with pity. Judgement, sure. But never pity.
I slipped through the lesser-used corridors, avoiding the main hallways where I might encounter any servants or, worse, Xül himself. The morning air kissed my skin as I emerged from the Spire.
The walk to the other side of the island wasn’t long—it wound through groves of bone-white trees whose branches rattled in the constant wind. By the time I reached the smaller spire, my cheeks were flushed from the brisk air.
I found Marx in one of the small training yards behind the building, practicing forms with a throwing knife.
A cursed one, evident from the swirls of black energy that circled it.
She moved with such feline grace, each strike lethal and on target.
For a moment, I simply watched, admiring her control.
"Are you going to stand there all day, or did you actually want something?" Marx called without breaking her rhythm.
A smile tugged at my lips. "How did you know it was me?"
"Please," she scoffed, finally pausing to turn toward me. "You're the only one who would stand there silently instead of announcing yourself like a normal person." She sheathed the blade with a flick of her wrist. "Besides, I could feel you brooding from across the yard."
"I don't brood," I protested half-heartedly.
"Of course not." She rolled her eyes, but there was that tiny crack of concern behind the sarcasm. The way her forehead wrinkled slightly—Marx’s only tell.
"Charming as always."
"It's part of my appeal." She gestured toward a stone bench at the edge of the yard. "Sit. Tell me why you're hiding here instead of following your Warden around like a lovesick puppy."
I felt my face go hot. "I don't?—"
"Save it," she cut me off. "The entire realm knows what happened in your trial. Well, not the details, but enough." She dropped onto the bench beside me, suddenly serious. "How are you, really? "
I stared at my hands, unsure how to answer. "I've been better."
"I can imagine." She nudged my shoulder with hers. "Though if it helps, you’re still here to fight another day."
"I nearly gave in."
"But you didn't," she said firmly. "You pulled back. That counts for something."
We sat in silence for a moment, the wind rustling through the bone trees around us. I only pulled back because Xül interrupted the illusion and warned me. I was alive because of him, not because of me.
"Anything you want to say about it?" she asked finally. "About the illusion. About Xül."
I tensed. "It was just physical. The trial was designed to exploit our weaknesses. Mine happened to be an inconvenient attraction to my mentor."
Marx studied me, her dark eyes piercing. "Just physical?"
"Of course," I snapped, perhaps too quickly. “I have eyes. He’s nice to look at. Nothing more.”
A knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth. "I didn't say it was anything else."
"Good." I looked away, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Because it's not."
She stayed silent, but I could feel her eyes on me.
I glanced at her, suddenly curious. "Do you want to talk about what you saw?"
A shadow crossed her face. "It’s far less salacious than yours."
"We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to," I said quickly.
"I don’t really want to talk about Finn." She exhaled slowly. "But before that… Well, you only saw the aftermath. Apparently, my deepest desire isn't for power or love or any of that noble shit. It's to watch."
"Watch?"
"Yes. Watch." Her lips twisted in a wounded smile. "Because mine wasn’t an illusion at all. They were real—two of the contestants that died. We’d gotten on pretty well earlier in the evening, and when they suggested we take it somewhere more private…."
I kept my expression neutral.
"Well," she continued, her voice dropping lower, "they started to burn.
Right in front of me. Their skin blackening, peeling away as they screamed.
And I couldn't look away. I thought—I was so convinced that I had cursed them somehow.
" Her hands trembled slightly. "The flames were spreading toward me and my skin was steaming when Kyren found me. "
"Kyren." My heart sank.
Marx looked away. "He was the one who realized something was wrong. Pulled me out before the flames could reach me." Sadness filled her eyes.
“He didn’t deserve to die like that,” I murmured.
“No,” Marx agreed. “He was an annoying little shit but useful when it mattered.”
“We’re alive because of him, in some way or another.”
“Don’t get all sentimental on me, now.” Marx huffed. “It’s too early in the morning for all that.”
“I can’t help but feel that something strange is happening,” I let the admission slip out. “Beyond the Trials. Like something else is happening in the background.”
“Well, it doesn’t take a scholar to see that.”
I thought about Lyralei's warnings, about all the strange occurrences since I'd arrived at Draknavor.
There were things I still couldn’t tell her. Things that weren’t my secrets, but Xüls, And for some reason, that made them worth keeping.
"And then there’s the other thing," Marx continued, lowering her voice further. "The Kavik of it all."
"I still don’t know what that was. Has Aelix said anything to you about it?"
She glanced around, then leaned closer. "Clearly someone or something was controlling him. Aelix has been investigating, trying to figure out who could have that kind of power over a Legend."
“It would have to be one of the Twelve.”
"Perhaps." She rubbed her arms as if suddenly cold. "Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to completely override his will."
"But why me?" I asked. "What threat could I possibly pose?"
Marx raised an eyebrow. "You're joking, right? Thais, your power is insane. And then there's the matter of your blood..."
I tensed. We'd skirted this topic before.
"Right," I acknowledged quietly.
Marx leaned closer. "Whoever was controlling Kavik must know what you are. And they're afraid of it."
“It has to be Olinthar, then.” I said slowly, eyeing her to make sure she understood the implications of what I was saying. I trusted Marx and no longer wanted to hide things from her.
Marx stilled, eyes going wide. “Light and order. Starlight.” She sighed, leaning back against the stone wall. “Well shit. It makes sense. I just never really thought about it, I guess.”
“He’s the one who has something to lose if the others discover who Thatcher and I really are,” I whispered, leaning in close. “He wants Thatcher alive, and he wants me dead.”
“Why do you think he wants Thatcher alive?” She questioned.
Shit.
“Another secret I’ll ask you to keep.”
“I’ve got quite the collection at this point. What’s another going to do?” She clicked her tongue.
“Thatcher’s powers haven’t been seen since the Primordials. He’s essentially the second coming of one called Vivros.”
Marx looked around, processing. After a moment, she finally spoke. “But why do you think that means Olinthar wants to keep him alive?”
“Chavore picked him even though his domain didn’t suit Thatcher at all. And how many times do you think Olinthar has stepped into the Trials and negotiated on behalf of a contestant's life?”
Marx cocked her chin. “Fair point.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “But he saved both of you.”
“He didn’t save me. He just couldn’t get to Thatcher without dragging me along.”
“I understand your logic,” Marx murmured. She furrowed her brow. “Does Olinthar have the ability to take over a mind like that? To make someone like Kavik completely lose himself?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. "Have you told anyone else about this?" I asked urgently. "About me?"
Marx looked offended. "Of course not. Who would I tell?"
Relief flooded me. "Thank you."
“Listen, we don’t need to get distracted by these things.” Marx took a deep breath. “You’re safe in Draknavor. After Kavik didn’t return, that sent a clear message that you could not be harmed here. And in the next trial, you have Thatcher and I. Between us and Xül, no one’s going to touch you.”
“I am also capable.” I nudged her. “I can hold my own in a fight.”
She merely raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “That you can.”
We fell silent again, both lost in our own thoughts.
"It's going to be a good day. I've decided," I said lightly. "Despite everything."
She raised an eyebrow. "How terribly optimistic of you."
"Don't worry, I'm sure it won't last." I stood, brushing off my clothes. "Are you coming?"
"Are you seriously pretending we didn't just have this entire conversation?" She looked incredulous.
"What conversation?" I asked innocently. "I only remember two friends agreeing to have lunch."
Marx stared at me for a moment before a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "You're impossible."
"I prefer resilient. "
"Stubborn as a mule, more like." But she fell into step beside me.
As we walked together toward the dining hall, my chest finally settled. The shame and humiliation of the trial still lingered, but somehow, Marx's blunt acceptance made it easier to bear.
"Thank you," I said quietly.
She glanced at me sideways. "For what?"
"For being you. I mean, I truly hate it most of the time. But you have your moments."
"Please," she scoffed, but I could see the pleased surprise in her eyes. “You’re just lucky I didn’t decide to dive deeper into your little obsession with the Prince of Death.”
"Gods forbid."
"Exactly." She bumped her shoulder against mine. "Besides, we both know Xül is irritatingly attractive. Anyone with functioning eyes would be tempted."
I reluctantly laughed at her bluntness. "Is that so?"
"Objectively speaking," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Not my type, obviously. Too brooding and complicated."
When we entered the dining hall, Aelix was already there, seated at a table laden with enough food for at least five people. His eyes showed a flicker of surprise when he saw me, but he recovered quickly, rising to his feet with a warm smile.
"Thais," he greeted me. "It's good to see you… up and about."
The concern in his voice made my neck burn. "Thank you," I managed. "For everything."
He nodded, understanding passing between us. "Sit. Eat. There’s plenty to go around."
As I took my seat, beside these unexpected allies, I felt the first buds of hope stirring beneath the weight of everything else. Soon, I would have to face Xül. I couldn’t avoid him forever. And I didn’t want to. I just wanted to move past this and refocus on my goals.
I would seek him out on my own. Tonight.